


Spaghetti Boy and Trashman

by holymalfoys



Category: IT - Stephen King, IT 2017
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Gay, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Parties, Unrequited Love, but just losers, but not a lot dont worry, eddie wearing a skirt, everyone's grown up, richie gets a bit sad, richie is a mess, richie talking shit, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 04:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holymalfoys/pseuds/holymalfoys
Summary: There are two things Richie Tozier reckons he knows for sure:1- He's gay and in love with his best friend.2- Eddie likes girls.Only one of those things is true. Mayhem ensues. Throw in a few meltdowns, a bit of pining, and you'll get the tale of Spaghetti Boy and Trashman, forever and always Amen.





	Spaghetti Boy and Trashman

**Author's Note:**

> lol this is so bad but enjoy

The Losers have, for all intensive purposes, grown up.

It’s the summer between senior year and the rest of their lives, and everyone’s grown up.

Everyone’s old enough to make their own decisions, to go out and have some fun and boogie the night away, and Richie feels a little bit weird about it.

Richie’s been through the ringer for yoinks now. He’s told everyone who listens, and even everyone who doesn’t, that he’s experienced all of this stuff everyone else seems to be catching on to years ago. He’s been talking about parties and sex and drugs and all that shit for ages, and it is an absolute shock to see everyone else start to talk about that stuff as well.

Even worse, they’re actually experiencing it, and Richie...

Well, Richie feels left in the dust.

Because as much as Richie runs his mouth, he doesn’t actually like this stuff. He’s a nerd with a success rate of a solid 0% of doing anything, ever, so he’s taken to researching everything teenagers do late at night in order to spin his stories.

Richie first realizes that everyone’s caught up to him one night when he’s talking absolute ass about smoking so much weed that Eddie’s mom let him bang her into oblivion and nobody even beeps him.

This is when the turning point comes around, when he realizes that everyone’s old enough now to stop beeping him when he starts running his mouth, which, okay, was always what was gonna happen in the end, sure, but Richie never quite envisioned Eddie as being a part of “everyone”.

Instead, they all ignore him and start talking about the party some guy in their grade is hosting next week. Eddie starts whispering to Bev about god-only-knows-what and they both burst into giggles, and Richie is so inexplicably sad that he accidentally leaves without saying goodbye.

He wanders home in his bright green crocs and weed socks that he may-or-may-not have worn to impress Eddie, whistling a badly out of tune rendition of “Hello Darkness My Old Friend” and stumbling over the gravel as he thinks everything through.

It’s not the first time he’s been ignored, but it’s different, somehow. He always thought Eddie would beep-beep-Richie him, and feels a bit empty that he didn’t do it tonight.

That night, Richie falls into bed fully clothed and doesn’t sleep until the early hours of the morning.

`

The house is practically rocking off its foundations.

Richie fucking hates parties. He doesn’t know why he’s here.

“Trashmouth!” Someone drunkenly yells at him, and his head snaps in their direction. It’s someone from his math class, and he’s kind of disappointed it isn’t one of his friends.

He hasn’t seen any of his friends since he got here, actually. He came with Stan and Bill, and they dumped him straight away. Probably to go fuck in the bathroom or some shit; Richie wouldn’t put it past them.

He raises his head in a frat bro nod, as though he’s fucking famous or some shit, and he keeps pushing through the crowd.

“Fuck me, it’s hot as balls in here,” someone beside him shouts. Richie glances down, and is pleasantly surprised to see it’s Bev.

“Bev!” he throws his arm haphazardly around her neck and leans down to kiss her head. “So good to see you, man.”

She wriggles away from him, laughing. “Hey, Rich.” He notices the glitter on her cheeks.

“Cool, uh, thing,” he gestures to his cheeks, and she beams. 

“Thanks! It was Eddie’s idea, actually. He wanted to try something new tonight, you know?” 

At the mention of his name, Richie’s heart thuds a little bit quicker. 

“Oh really? Do you know where he is?” The words are out before he can stop them, and he blushes. Beverly gives him a knowing look, and he flushes even more.

“Out back, I think.” Someone tugs on her hand, and she turns to leave.

She calls out a “later, dude! Don’t do anything stupid!” over her shoulder, and then she’s off, following some purple haired girl to the dancefloor. 

Richie shakes his head, smiling after her. Ah, young fucking love.

With a known destination in mind, he presses quicker through the crowd, eager to see the short fireball he calls his best friend.

See, Eddie and Richie go way back. They’ve been best-friends-forever for more than a decade. They grew up together, climbing in each others windows and watching movies and crying and laughing and talking shit (Richie) and getting faux-annoyed (Eddie). That’s just them; Spaghetti Boy and Trashman, the superhero duo you never knew you needed until now. It’s them against the world, forever and always Amen.

Except it isn’t strictly platonic, at least for Richie. The bastard’s been in love with his Eds since the fucking dawn of time, and will probably still be in love with him after the world ends and they all die in a big ball of alien shit and fire.

That’ll probably be the day Richie finally admits it to him. The day they pass away after getting eaten by goblins or drowning in melted dildos or however else the planet decides to punish all of humanity for almost killing the bees all those years ago.

It’s shit, being in love with somebody who you’re already so affectionate with. They’re somehow always touching in some way, either their knees or their shoulders or their hands or feet or something, because sometimes Richie just really wants to fucking kiss the shit out of him when Eddie looks at him with those big, watery brown, doe eyes, and it fucking sucks that he can’t because Eddie’s straight and Richie isn’t some creepy ass James Charles wannabe.

So. Richie fancies the pants off Eddie, but Eddie is straight, and it’s fine, really, it is, because at least there’s an excuse for him never even slightly liking Richie back. It’s biology, and you can’t cry over biology.

And if there are times Richie nearly forgets himself and almost lets himself say the words he’s not supposed to, then so be it. He’s human and he’s fucking proud of it.

He slips out of the open back door and inhales noisily. There’s someone vomiting in a bush nearby, and a couple making out on one of the plastic lawn chairs. Whose house is this again?

It doesn’t matter. He’s too busy scanning the garden, trying to catch a glimpse of the light of his life, when the couple abruptly stop kissing. The one sitting on the other’s lap jumps up, and Richie notices they’re wearing a skirt. It’s black and so, so short, and Richie vaguely wonders what it feels like to have someone wearing a skirt sit on your lap. Skirty tugs on the boy’s hand, pulling him up and tugging him towards the house, and accidentally runs into Richie.

“Oh shit, sorry…” 

Richie freezes. He realizes he knows that voice, knows that ass. 

“Eddie?!” He’s so startled he shouts it. 

“Richie, I…” Eddie finally looks up at him. His lips are glistening and swollen, glitter smeared all over his cheeks, and he looks wrecked. His eyelids are droopy and he has a serious case of bedhead, and Richie would be so fucking attracted to him right now if he wasn’t so utterly confused.

(Richie is still attracted to him. Eddie could be wearing a potato sack and Richie would still want to fuck him into next week.)

Richie’s eyes flit over to the grinning boy who is still holding Eddie’s hand. 

“Belch Huggins?! What the fuck,” Richie says, and then he turns and runs away, ignoring Eddie shouting after him. 

`

Richie doesn’t leave his house for the next three days. He doesn’t use his phone for the next three days.

He just kind of… sits there, staring into space.

“Belch Huggins, seriously?” He says aloud to nobody for the seventy billionth time.

Because what the fuck.

Belch Huggins is the ugliest motherfucker on the planet. He’s also super fucking stupid, and the biggest fucking dickhead to ever grace the universe. 

Also, he’s a member of Bower’s gang. AKA the most homophobic gang in the town.

It just doesn’t make any fucking sense. Like, nothing in that story seems real, or right. 

So Eddie is at least partially into guys. That’s good. But he’s partially into Belch Fucking Huggins, and that’s super fucking bad.

Richie just doesn’t fucking get it.

Belch Huggins. You have to be fucking kidding him.

`

For once in his life, Richie is entirely out of the loop.

Everyone’s caught up to him, and Richie cannot figure out why that shakes him as much as it does.

He cannot figure out why finding out Eddie Kaspbrak has changed, has grown up and makes shitty decisions and goes to parties he really shouldn’t be going to and wears skirts and glitter, tilts Richie’s world right the fuck off its axis and leaves him more speechless than he’s been in a decade.

He doesn’t know why he’s feeling so shitty about Eddie kissing other guys, either. Well, he can sort of see why he’s shocked at the whole Belch Huggins thing, but it’s Eddie’s decision and Richie should support Eddie through anything and everything.

Spaghetti Boy and Trashman, forever and always Amen.

He knows he’s being super fucking shitty right now. But he figures his heart is broken- he’s spent years of his life in love with this motherfucker, who likes Belch fucking Huggins. God fucking damn it.

He decides to stay home and keep his phone turned off.

`

When Bev shows up on his doorstep a week after the party, her hands on her hips and her mouth twisted down, Richie feels super fucking guilty.

“Hey, B-,” he starts, but she holds up a quivering finger.

“Don’t you dare ‘hey, Bev’ me, you fucking asshole,” and she storms past him, straight into his living room.

He follows her, tail between his legs. “I’m sor-”

“Shut the fuck up,” she interrupts, swinging around to stare him down. He shuffles from foot to foot, staring at the carpet.

“Did you know… did you know that Eddie has been staying at my house for the last week straight, sobbing into my mattress because of you, you fucking imbecile?” Her voice is quivering with rage, and Richie’s head snaps up. 

She steps towards him. “Did you know that that boy has been crying himself hoarse over you? Has been questioning himself non stop? Has been having panic attacks every fucking day? Did you, Mr Fucking Idiot?” Bev glares at him, and Richie shrinks under her gaze.

“I- I didn’t,” his voice cracks. 

“Did you know there is a boy absolutely heartbroken because of you? Because you ran away from him when he was trying to get over you?” Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

“Oh fuck. I shouldn’t have said-”

“What,” Richie says. “The fuck.”

He steps forward, reaches out and grabs her shoulder. He’s shaking.

“What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

Bev shrugs him off, squaring up to him.

“You broke his fucking heart, Richie. He thinks he’s lost you forever. He regrets ever being himself. So go fucking talk to him yourself, you fucking moron. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Richie is running out the door before she’s finished saying “fuck”.

`

He has never run so fast in his life. The breath rips itself from his lungs, tears streaming down his face.

Fucking fuck fuck. He didn’t think-

Richie skids into Bev’s driveway, stumbling over the curb and launching himself at the ground. He spares no time checking for cuts or bruises; instead, he stands, and throws himself into her house.

“Eddie?” He hollers, loud enough to wake the dead.

“He’s upstairs, dipshit.” Stan’s voice carries into the hall. He’s standing in the kitchen, a mug pressed to his chest, and he’s giving Richie his death stare.

“I’m so sorry, Stan the man, I just gotta-” and then he’s bolting up the stairs at lightning speed, not even on all fours.

“Eddie? Where are you?” His voice is shaking. He runs as fast as he can, opening every door until only one remains.

Richie twists the doorknob and proceeds to fall flat on his face in what he assumes to be Bev’s bedroom.

His heart drops to his right kneecap as he takes in the sight before him. Eddie is crumpled on the bed, wearing grey sweatpants and an old ACDC t-shirt of Richie’s, fast asleep. Richie stumbles over to him and brushes a lock of hair behind the sleeping boy’s ear.

Eddie awakens with a start, sitting up so suddenly he almost rams his head into Richie’s nose. “Richie?” He whispers, his eyes tired and wide.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful.

Richie wraps his arms around him as tight as he can, pressing his lips into the nest of chocolate brown hair he fell in love with oh so long ago. He squeezes his eyes shut, cradling his best friend, the love of his life, and never planning on letting go.

“I’m so fucking sorry Eds, Jesus Christ. I’m so, so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry-” He’s rambling, squeezing Eddie as hard as he can.

Then Eddie punches him in the stomach and the moment is broken.

“The fuck, dude?” Richie is, once again, bamboozled. 

Eddie’s eyes are blazing, his face bright red. He’s a firecracker, and Richie is so fucking in love with him.

“I love you,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen. He scrambles off the bed, stepping towards Richie like the teddy bear he is.

“You fucking asshole,” he says through clenched teeth. And then he’s throwing himself at Richie, grabbing his face, and crushing their mouths together.

It’s as far from elegant as you can get. It’s messy, it’s uncoordinated, and it doesn’t last nearly as long as it should.

Eddie is the first to break it. “You fucking dick,” he hisses as Richie picks him up. “I thought you were homophobic or something, you stupid fuck-” he’s crying, and it’s breaking Richie’s heart.

“What the fuck?” Eddie is choking on his sobs- Richie softens. “Eddie, I’ve been gone for you for  _ years _ . How the fuck have you not noticed?” They’re kissing again, and they’re both crying.

“I just- what the fuck,” he says, when they break for air. “I thought you were straight, dipshit, and then I walked in on you making out with Belch fucking Huggins and I was so confused my brain shortcircuited. You rendered me completely speechless, you idiot- I thought I’d missed my chance.”

“I- I thought you h-hated me,” Eddie sniffles. Richie brushes his cheek with a long finger. “I th-thought the sk-skirt and glitter-r scared y-you and yo-u hated me.”

“Dude, you looked hot as fuck. Are you kidding me? I just didn’t understand why you were kissing Belch,” Richie makes a face. “When I was right there. Wait, why were you kissing him in the first place?”

Eddie chews his lip. “Because he- he said I looked nice and that he was questioning himself and… I just really wanted to kiss somebody Richie, and you seemed so experienced and so above the rest of us and I tried to catch up and he was the only person I knew who was questioning himself and I was drunk and I was trying to impress you, I think, while trying to get over you because you knew everything and I knew nothing and I thought you would only like me if I was as experienced as you and I thought you had a girlfriend because you always talk about ‘banging chicks’ and I was angry at you for being so good at everything and I just wanted to stop pining after you and-”

Richie is, once again, speechless. “Wow, slow down there, short stuff. What?”

Eddie inhales. “I’m in love with you, Richie, and I thought you wouldn’t love me back because I wasn’t experienced. I think I was trying to show you I could kiss people too, you know?”

And Richie starts laughing. “What the fuck,” and he’s crushing Eddie in a hug again.

“You’re such a fucking idiot. I love you so much, what the hell.” And they’re kissing again.

This time, when they pull apart, Richie says, “you’re a much better kisser than your mom.”

Eddie says, “beep beep Richie”.

`

They’re Spaghetti Boy and Trashman, forever and always Amen.

Except now they have a bit more zest and better understanding of each other, and it’s better than it could ever be in any other life.  
  



End file.
